


Full Circle

by Missy



Category: Toy Story Series (Movies)
Genre: Childhood, Community: schmoop_bingo, Found Family, Gen, Nostalgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-12
Updated: 2010-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-13 15:47:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bonnie held on to them for a long time.  But when she grows up, what happens to the toys?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Circle

**Author's Note:**

> Written for schmoop_bingo, prompt: long-lost love

Bonnie held on to them for a long time. Woody barely noticed the passage of years, but Jessie –watchful and wary, waiting for the next hurt, started casually bringing up the fact that the girl was getting older and taller every time she turned around.

Bonnie was, but that didn’t stop her from sending Rex and Buzz off on missions to explore Mars together now and again, when no one was looking. When she got a little bit older, all of her toys stood sentry on the tops of desks and on shelves, propped on stands or against each other. Woody, Bullseye and Jesse stood together over Bonnie’s bed, next to her copies of Edgar Rice Burrows’ Tarzan Trilogy.

It took Woody a very long time to get bored with this lazy way of life. Buzz kept things lively by leading the gang on short missions through the house – after five years, even a trip to the backyard to tease the neighbor’s cat seemed an adventure.

When Bonnie was a teenager, she started bringing more toys into the house – Barbies, but they weren’t quite like the Barbies they had known at Andy’s house. These were dolls with hand-sewn dresses and appliquéd sequins – dolls worth hundreds of dollars instead of tens. Unlike toys who had been built for a life of play, these dolls swanned around on Bonnie’s shelves and desktops, built to live behind glass and pine. When Woody saw one clad in an aqua organza and tulle dress plunked beside him on a shelf, he knew the invasion of dreaded ‘collector’s items’ had begun. But unlike other collectors, Bonnie took pride in displaying her dolls in little dioramas, with props and furniture. It wasn’t the kind of life a play-toy like Woody could fathom, but the collector’s dolls just loved it.

They loved it a little too well, Woody had noticed with some bemusement, and considered themselves far above the common toys they were surrounded by. At one point they’d tried to sell Buzz on eBay and the toys had been forced to go on a rescue mission to save him. He’d been picked up by a professional toy refurbisher en-route to the mail box. Long story short, they had been forced to pluck him out of a storefront display at the height of Christmas season. The collectibles had pitched in, ultimately, helping them build a rope ladder of their spare hair that let them climb through a crack in the display window. After that, the collectibles had learned, reluctantly, to coexist with the toys.

All in all, Woody decided, it could be worse; they could have been forgotten and tossed away in some dark toy chest, like they had been for so many years with Andy.

He could think of Andy without bitterness - that, perhaps, was the greatest gift they’d gotten from Bonnie.

***

Four years after the store display incident, a seventeen-year-old Bonnie cracked open her front door before unlatching it. She smiled warmly at the two men who entered. “How are you guys?”

“Hey Bonnie.” Andy smiled warmly as he carried a small dark-haired girl over the threshold.

Bonnie tried to peer at the face pressed tightly to his neck. “Is that Amy?”

Amy peered back at Bonnie, then quickly turned her fact back into her father’s neck. “It’s okay, honey.” He patted the back of her head. “She’s still trying to get used to being here. The plane ride took a lot out of her.”

“That’s fine. How’re her English classes coming?”

“Radically,” offered Sid from somewhere behind Andy. He was carrying Tommy on his shoulders, and nearly bonked the child’s head on the doorframe as he bounded in. “Hi, Bonnie, what’s shaking?”

Bonnie can’t help but shake her head at Sid. She barely knew the guy beyond what Andy said about him in his emails, but could tell from his entry that he was quite a character. “Hi! How’s the trash collecting business going?”

“Fine,” he said, mock-seriously. “But I’m a waste-management artisan.”

“Yeah!” echoed Tommy boisterously. The kid was wearing red Chucks and an Elmo teeshirt with his hole-ridden jeans, and there was an almost innocent merriness in his eyes.

“Hi, Tommy!” she called. She was somewhat more familiar with Tommy than Sid, thanks to the multiple pictures Andy’s sent her from Montana. “How’s it up there?”

“High!” he replied, kicking his father in the chest with the heel of his sneaker.

Bonnie chortled as she turned toward Andy. “How long are you guys staying?”

“Til New Years,” Andy said. “Mom would be disappointed if we left early, and we’ve got a couple of hands looking after the ranch.”

“And waste management artisans get paid vacations. Paid off time rules!” Sid and Tommy had made themselves at home in her living room, playing with her Rock Band setup. Sid had picked out a Johnny Cash song and was strumming along to the beat, Tommy accompanying him on drums several beats behind the rhythm, buttons clacking. Her mother had insisted that it was a waste of time leaving the game set up – just one more thing her mom was wrong about, Bonnie decided.

“If you want to come on in and see them,” Bonnie said, “they’re right through this door.”

***

Woody had spent most of the night pacing the floor. Jessie had been as worried as he was, though Buzz had said they were panicking for nothing. Woody considered it his job to lead their family; Buzz, content with Jessie, feared the future only if it meant separation.

When the door creaked open they flopped down in place, lying on the shelves and floors wherever they had last been placed.

“Here they all are,” Bonnie said, gently picking Woody up and holding him out.

Andy gently tugged on Amy’s foot. “Amy, would you like to meet Woody?”

The little girl turned her head, wide-eyed, cautious. Andy pulled Woody’s string.

“There’s a snake in my boot!” Woody blurted out, and Amy tucked her face closer to Andy’s neck, wide-eyed with fear.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Andy said. “See? He’s the roughest, toughest deputy in the world.” He dangled Woody carefully in front of Amy. “He was my buddy when I was your age, and Bonnie’s buddy, too.”

Andy pulled the string. “You’re my favorite deputy,” Woody said.

That loosened Amy up slightly. She reached for Woody very cautiously.

“Hey,” Sid said, coming around the corner with a sandwich in hand, “what’s going-“ Bonnie elbowed him in the ribs to silence him.

Amy made the connection at last. She poked Woody, tugging his string. “You’re my favorite deputy,” he repeated, and there was an audible difference in the quality of his voice that neither of the adults picked up. She paused for a long second, before tucking Woody close to her.

“My dolly,” she declared.

Andy relaxed visibly as Sid wrapped his free arm around his shoulder. “Let’s start packing up the rest of them,” Sid suggested to Bonnie. Together, they tucked each toy into a paper sack, preparing them for the car trip back to their new home in Montana. Andy just held Amy close to his chest, praising her for her efforts. He grinned down at Woody and gave the cowboy’s head a pat. “Thanks again, old buddy.”

And had Andy looked Woody in the eyes, he would have noticed a new sparkle to them. It could have been the way the light changed as the door opened, but only a fellow toy would recognize the glistening sheen of happy tears shed without shame.


End file.
